


Rainbow

by mimosa-supernova (FourCatProductions)



Series: Femslash February 2020 [1]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Making Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22609135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/mimosa-supernova
Summary: Abigail brings her girlfriend a present. Haley overreacts.
Relationships: Abigail/Haley (Stardew Valley)
Series: Femslash February 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626805
Comments: 14
Kudos: 71





	Rainbow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Rainbow.
> 
> Haley's the only villager who hates Prismatic Shard - this seemed like a good time to explore that a bit.

The shard is the size of her fist, striped with layers of color. It shimmers, iridescent, in the weak morning sun. Abigail beams, cheeks smudged with coal dust. Her nails are caked with dirt. Haley feels sick to her stomach.

“I found it in the mines,” Abigail continues, oblivious in her excitement. She’s bouncing on her toes like a little kid, pale face flushed beneath the grime. There’s a sword strapped to her hip and a pick-axe slung across her back, purple hair tied up in a messy ponytail. If it were under any other circumstances, Haley would be thinking about how beautiful she is. “I’ve never seen one in real life, have you? Outside of the museum, I mean.”

Emily talks about prismatic shards sometimes – how they’re sacred to Yoba, thought to bring good luck to whoever finds them, or the other old legends that the desert nations used to tell of their secrets. The one Haley’s clutching digs into her palm. Its surface ripples, ruby to gold to sapphire, veins of emerald and amethyst threaded in between. Abigail waves a hand in front of her face.

“Hey, Earth to Haley.” Her excitement is subdued now, tempered by uncertainty. “You okay?”

Haley shoves it back at her.

“Why did you give me this?”

She doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does, but it’s out there now, Abigail staring at her incredulously. Her eyes, wide and soft with hurt, harden.

“What the hell?”

“Why?” Haley demands again.

Abigail flings her arms wide, exasperated. “Because I found a super-rare, awesome gemstone today and thought, ‘hey, you know who I should give this once-in-a-lifetime find to? _My girlfriend._ ’ Fuck.” She kicks at the doorstep, dried mud falling off her boot. “What’s your problem, anyway?”

“You don’t know me at all,” Haley says, and shuts the door in her face.

*****

It’s not like she hates gems. Not really. She likes the ever-expanding collection at the museum, cultivated by the new farmer like one of his crops, and she likes the jewelry Emily makes to accompany her clothes, even if it’s not her style. It’s the assumption she hates. That of course _she’d_ want diamonds and pearls, because she’s pretty and blonde and shallow, no deeper than people’s expectations – she had a whole jewelry box at one point, filled with presents from would-be boyfriends and girlfriends that she never wore. Never mind that Emily is the sister who likes crystals and rocks, while Haley prefers simpler things, daffodils and sunflowers and pink melon cake fresh from the oven.

 _I’m sorry,_ she texts Abigail when she calms down, after the guilt starts setting in, and gets no response. She shouldn’t have snapped, she knows. She hadn’t meant to. She’d just…

Abigail was supposed to know her better than that.

It had taken them a long time to get there, untangling years of mistrust and confusion and arguing from genuine interest, but they had, hadn’t they? They’d gotten there in the end. Or at least, they had until she’d overreacted. She huffs, head in her hands. Abigail had probably just wanted to share it with her because it was special, and Haley had thrown it back in her face.

A few more minutes of moping, and then she gets fed up and decides to do something about it. Abigail deserves more than a text. She runs her fingers through her hair, reapplies her lip gloss, and steps outside, into the late summer afternoon.

Clint’s shop is on the other side of town, across the bridge, and it’s almost closing time when Haley reaches the smithy, door chiming to signal her arrival. Cling barely glances up from his newspaper when she comes to the counter. Not that she’s surprised – the only person he likes is her sister. She clears her throat, and he lowers the paper a fraction of an inch.

“Closing time.”

“It’s three-fifty,” she says. “I have ten minutes.”

Clint seems to accept that he’s not getting rid of her until she gets what she wants, because he folds the paper up and sets it aside with a grunt. “Fine. What do you need?”

Haley reaches for her wallet. “Do you have any amethyst?”

*****

Abigail rarely stays mad for long – not at her, anyway – and Haley talks her into coming over the following day instead of exploring the mines. It’s a sweet summer morning, warm and bright, and Haley gets up a little earlier than usual to shower and put on the one purple dress she owns. She hates how she looks in purple, but it’s Abigail’s favorite color, so she can suffer through it for a few hours. She’s still rehearsing her apology in her head when the doorbell rings.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she says as soon as she opens the door, and that’s as far as she gets before Abigail stands on tip-toe and kisses her, the paper bag hooked over her elbow bumping into Haley’s hip. She smells earthy, like fresh-cut grass and flowers.

“Hold that thought,” she says, and darts off into the kitchen.

Haley sits on the couch, amethyst heavy on her lap, and listens to the rustle of paper and crinkling plastic. A cabinet thumps, and not for the first time, she’s relieved Emily’s a heavy sleeper. More rustling, the faint _snick_ of scissors, then silence. Abigail pokes her head around the corner.

“You can come in now.”

She’s opened the curtains, light flooding the room through the kitchen window, and on the table is a neat cluster of gifts that stops Haley in her tracks – a take-out box with a slice of pink melon cake, orchard-fresh oranges, a bouquet of sunflowers stuffed into a vase with their deep green leaves curling over the lip, and a bowl of fruit salad crowned with coconut shavings and blueberries. All her favorite things in one place, because _of course_ Abigail knows her, of course she does, and her heart breaks in the sweetest way.

“What… what is all this? It’s not my birthday.”

She’s trying for light-hearted, but her voice wobbles. Abigail doesn’t call her on it. Just takes the amethyst from her and kisses her cheek, arm around her waist.

“A different kind of rainbow,” she says.


End file.
